


Cultural Miscommunications 101

by helloshepard



Series: prowlcoswave [9]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Continued Slow Burn, Courtship, Cultural Differences, Fix-It, Minor Original Character(s), Miscommunication, Multi, Not Beta Read, Pre-Poly, Pre-Relationship, References to (the robotic equivalent of) heavy and borderline irresponsible drinking, Telepathy, The Grand Beginning of an Attempt at Possibly Starting a Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24696847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: “Prowl.” Prowl still hadn’t let go of his hand, so Cosmos tugged at his arm to get Prowl’s attention. “Start from the beginning.”“Right.” Prowl took in a deep breath and tried again.“You were planning to ask us to be your conjux?!”
Series: prowlcoswave [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633282
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	Cultural Miscommunications 101

**Author's Note:**

> This fic references multiple events that occur in as-of-yet unwritten fics. Yet, I am impatient and crave feedback so it is going up Now.

“Have you even _seen_ the movie?”

“If a movie calls itself _Sand Shark,_ Prowl, you can be pretty sure it’s not a good movie.”

Cosmos leaned back in his seat and gave Prowl a flat, level stare. Prowl stared back.

“You’re telling me that the whole time I’m visiting Earth, you’re gonna be sitting in our room, watching terrible shark movies.”

Prowl was quiet.

“You’re messing with me,” Cosmos realized.

Prowl responded with the faintest grin Cosmos had ever seen in his entire life.

To his knowledge, it was also the first time Prowl had ever looked at him like that. Cosmos took a quick second to thank Primus that Prowl’s hearing wasn’t nearly as good as Soundwave’s—he certainly wouldn’t be able to hear the abrupt change in the rhythm of Cosmos’s spark.

Before Cosmos could find it in himself to change the subject, one of the Decepticons came up to their table. That wouldn’t normally be a notable occurrence—the Decepticons had warmed up to their presence far, far faster than Cosmos thought possible.

The only problem was, Cosmos had no idea who this Decepticon was.

But evidently, Prowl did.

“Outburst.”

“Hey!” Outburst seemed full of nervous energy, shifting in place awkwardly as he tried to decide whether to look at Cosmos or Prowl. It reminded Cosmos enough of himself to warrant a sympathetic wince when Prowl stared blankly, as though he was trying to place the Decepticon.

“Outburst,” Prowl said, finally. “You were looking for your conjux.”

“And I found him!” Outburst pointed to the far side of the rec room, where a purple-and-white aquatic alt waved awkwardly. “All thanks to you.”

Prowl nodded. “This is Cosmos.”

“Oh!” Outburst beamed, and Prowl did that _thing,_ that spec ops _thing_ Cosmos had never truly been able to master without the use of stealth paint, where he just kind of leaned back and blended in. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Likewise.” Cosmos wondered if it would be poor form to lean over and glare at Prowl. Instead, he grabbed the glass of energon and took a drink.

“Sparknote and I wanted to know,” Outburst was saying to Prowl. “Well, it was mostly me, since he doesn’t really know you yet. Two things—if you three have completed the _ritus_ yet, and if you _haven’t,_ if you wanted me and Sparknote—mostly me—to help plan the party.”

Cosmos spat out his drink.

“The what.”

“The _ritus.”_ Outburst frowned. “To become _conjux endura?_ You know what it is, Prowl, right? _”_

“I know what it is.” Prowl’s voice was strained. Cosmos doubted his own voice would sound much better. “What I don’t understand is why—”

Cosmos shut off his audio receptors.

Half a minute ago, his entire world had been flipped upside down, and it was finally catching up with him. Cosmos pushed his drink away and took comfort in the fact that Prowl seemed just as adrift as he was. 

Soundwave. Soundwave wanted to undergo the _ritus._ With him. With _both of them._

The reasonable side of Cosmos told him that it was a secondhand rumor at best—and from what little he knew about Outburst, the mech seemed rather prone to…excitement.

He looked back at Prowl. Prowl, who seemed to be getting more and more agitated, which had the unpleasant side effect of getting _Cosmos_ more and more agitated. If there was nothing to this rumor, surely Prowl wouldn’t be so…animated.

Cosmos switched his audio receptors back on.

“Come on,” Prowl said.

“Where’re we going?”

“Where else?” Insistently, Prowl grabbed his hand and hauled Cosmos up. Cosmos allowed himself to be dragged out of the rec room and down the hall, towards Soundwave’s office. It would be a short walk; a couple minutes at most; less, if Prowl kept up this pace.

As they walked, Cosmos tried to remember the steps of the _ritus._ There was the act of…fellowship? Devotion? He couldn’t remember. But whatever it was, it was _important,_ and clearly, Soundwave knew it. Could the _ritus_ be performed when the other party (or parties, Cosmos supposed dryly, since Prowl was apparently going to be…proposed? conjuxed?) was unaware? It was another question he had no answer to.

And most importantly—Cosmos tripped, then righted himself—what would his answer be? There was a lot he didn’t know about the _ritus,_ but it most certainly required an affirmative answer to be official. And…

_Primus._

He was going to say yes.

The realization hit Cosmos with the force of a K-Class making landfall.

Soundwave was going to ask Cosmos to be his _conjux endura,_ and Cosmos was going to say _yes._

Cosmos looked at Prowl’s back, the way his door wings shifted as he stepped through a part of the hallway that had been partially blocked off due to repairs. The way his hand felt in Cosmos’s—strong and confident, though Cosmos could most definitely feel Prowl shaking.

Cosmos wasn’t sure what Prowl would say. He didn’t think Prowl would say _yes—_ there was too much history between the two of them, the most painful of it having happened less than a century ago. But he wasn’t sure Prowl would say _no,_ either.

He hadn’t left the station, after all.

Despite Soundwave using every bit of influence he had to persuade Starscream to give Prowl a full pardon, Prowl hadn’t returned to Cybertron. And Prowl had used _his_ last bit of blackmail to secure the commune’s independence from Optimus. People who still hated each other, who still agonized over hurt—people like that didn’t do things like that for each other, did they?

And together, they had gotten D.0.C. for him. After his disastrous, awkward retirement ceremony, which had been more about Prowl than it had been about him, the three of them had wandered over to the bar and drank until the morning, and they _still_ visited the bar every few days, and more than once they had just ended up sleeping it off in Soundwave’s office, and more than once Cosmos had woken with Soundwave’s head in his lap, with Prowl leaning against his side, or he had woken one morning, with Soundwave asleep on his left and Prowl on his right and he had been so tired, yet so deliriously happy…

Together, they stepped into Soundwave’s office.

The Decepticon was asleep. His head rested on his arms, amidst a stack of datapads Cosmos knew weren’t organized at all, though Soundwave liked to pretend they were. 

“Soundwave,” Prowl was saying. _“Soundwave.”_

He’d never been quick to wake up—Cosmos remembered the first time he had seen Soundwave wake up. He had fallen asleep long before the movie was halfway over; Cosmos and Prowl had stayed up and Prowl had been telling him about a case he’d solved when he worked in mechaforensics when Soundwave stirred, and it had taken a good five minutes for him to approach anything resembling coherent.

But today was different.

Perhaps Soundwave had sensed the chaos running through their minds (did he know _already_ that Cosmos planned to say yes?), because he sat up almost immediately.

“What the hell have you been getting at?” Prowl demanded. “Why would you— _how_ could you even think we— _I—_ would…that we could…”

“Prowl.” Prowl still hadn’t let go of his hand, so Cosmos tugged at his arm to get Prowl’s attention. “Start from the beginning.”

“Right.” Prowl took in a deep breath and tried again.

_“You were planning to ask us to be your conjux?!”_

Cosmos winced. 

Soundwave was silent.Cosmos could practically _feel_ him digging around their minds—or perhaps only his mind Soundwave was rifling through. Cosmos tried to organize his thoughts into something resembling coherence, though he was still…

“No,” Soundwave said.

Prowl took a step back.

Cosmos let out a shaky breath and realized that his world had once again been knocked askew. Just a few minutes ago, the idea of Soundwave courting him (courting _them)_ had been so outside the realm of possibility it had been laughable to even suggest that. And then the possibility had been broached, and Cosmos realized he had been _looking forward to it._

He had been _looking forward_ to Soundwave courting him (and Prowl! which was a whole other _thing_ to think about—were they supposed to court each other? A three-way _ritus?_ Was that even possible? He didn’t remember anything like that ever happening before the war, but he knew little about spark mates.)

And above all, he hadn’t ever expected to be Soundwave’s _conjux._ He would have been content to be a couple; close, but not _official._

And like it had been yesterday, he remembered the sudden, abrupt realization he had been trying (and mostly succeeding) to forget—gently touching Prowl’s face after the incident with Sentinel, with Soundwave in the CR chamber and Prowl, deep in stasis and leaking coolant from a badly-patched wound in his side—and knowing that while he was more than happy to be Prowl’s friend because Prowl needed time to himself, to heal, and out of everyone in the universe, Prowl was one of the few mechs who seemed to actually _like_ him—Cosmos had realized that slowly but surely, he was falling in love with Prowl. 

Belatedly, Cosmos realized Prowl was still talking, Prowl _still_ hadn’t let got of his hand, and Prowl was standing between himself and Soundwave, as though Prowl was _defending_ him. He remembered Prowl and Soundwave vying to stand in front of each other the first, disastrous time Optimus came to the station, as though the one standing in the front would spare the other from Optimus’s wrath.

“Autobot, Decepticon _conjux endura,”_ Soundwave was saying. “Different.”

“Different _how.”_

“Autobot, traditional _conjux endura:_ formal, involves extensive courtship over extended periods of time. Decepticon _conjux endura_ commitment: far more casual. Cultural differences caused miscommunication.”

“Obviously,” Prowl said, and Cosmos felt him relax, if only incrementally. “Explain. Please.”

Soundwave nodded.

“Decepticon interpretation of _conjux endura_ deliberately subverts traditional _conjux endura.”_ Soundwave tilted his head, as though the specifics escaped him. “Initially, done out of anger directed towards class system, Primes. Hasty, unplanned, no commitment. Any mech became a potential conjux. Later, _conjux endura_ was done for political, formal reasons. Example: Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp, once considered themselves _conjux endura._ To Decepticons, _amica endura_ is closer to Autobot understanding of _conjux endura.”_

Prowl was nodding, slowly. Cosmos was struggling to keep up, trying to make sense of these familiar words which had been rearranged into new and unfamiliar sentences.

“Soundwave, initially planned to undergo the _ritus,”_ Soundwave said. “But understands Cosmos, Prowl’s definition differs. Soundwave: defers to Autobot meaning of the word.”

He had been content with being an eventual-couple with Soundwave, and a steady friend with Prowl, but now that the possibility had been brought up, Cosmos had found himself unable to let go of the idea—not entirely. But _now,_ Soundwave was saying that _his_ definition of conjux was very, very different than Cosmos’s.

As a cold wave of disappointment washed over him, Cosmos tried not to let himself feel _too_ disappointed, and most definitely tried not to notice that Soundwave had stopped looking at Prowl and was most definitely looking at _him,_ instead.

“For clarification.” Soundwave’s voice sounded as unsteady as Prowl’s had, just a few minutes ago. “Cosmos, Prowl: opposed to undergoing Autobot interpretation of _conjux endura_ courtship?”

“Yes,” Cosmos blurted out, and abruptly realized he had said the absolute wrong thing. “Wait, I mean _yes,_ I’m—no? Primus Soundwave,” Cosmos managed. “You know what I mean.”

Slowly, Soundwave nodded. Until that moment, Cosmos hadn’t noticed just how tense Soundwave was—he nodded and visibly relaxed, as though Cosmos had been holding a gun to his head and had just now put it down.

They both turned to look at Prowl. He had started shaking again, Cosmos realized, and had to fight the urge to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, because that might draw attention to the fact that _Prowl_ _hadn’t yet let go of his hand._

And Cosmos didn’t want him to.

He really, really didn’t want him to.

“No,” Prowl said, after what felt like an eternity had come and gone. “I don’t think I mind, either.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback......good


End file.
